


Spark

by WhiteInkSplash



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteInkSplash/pseuds/WhiteInkSplash
Summary: Hello everybody! This is my first fic ever, inspired by many others' fiction, and it details some misadventures or adventures that both survivors and killers have gone on. There will be some criss-crossing plots, but mostly its just survivors and killers trying to beat the Entity's ass. Yay.Ziracona's fics were a major factor that got me to start writing, since I was so absorbed in their ficticious world, and Tridraconeus's comments are ever so good, so why not include them here.So there you go! Every chapter will build up to be around 7000 - 10000 words long, and I hope you enjoy it!
Kudos: 9





	Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ziracona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziracona/gifts), [Tridraconeus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tridraconeus/gifts).



> Hello everybody! This is my first fic ever, inspired by many others' fiction, and it details some misadventures or adventures that both survivors and killers have gone on. There will be some criss-crossing plots, but mostly its just survivors and killers trying to beat the Entity's ass. Yay.  
> Ziracona's fics were a major factor that got me to start writing, since I was so absorbed in their ficticious world, and Tridraconeus's comments are ever so good, so why not include them here.  
> So there you go! Every chapter will build up to be around 7000 - 10000 words long, and I hope you enjoy it!

Insanity was always an interesting subject for Herman, given he studied it quite intensively back in the days when the god above him wasn’t a staple of life, and he was still just a researcher simply researching the wonders of the mind. Life had not changed much; just that killing was a part of the equation now, both to survive and to continue researching. The subjects here were satisfactory, but sometimes it just wasn't enough to shock them once or twice without a control of the environment and the multiple variables at all. Progress was slow here, and although Herman did feel an infinite amount of gratitude towards the god above him for even letting him conduct his work at all, sometimes the days were crawling, the clock barely moved at all, and Herman would stare at nothing, thinking of all the time wasted that could have been used to conduct research into groundbreaking things. He'd read the notes again and again and again, even though they had been ingrained into his brain long, long ago, and tried to find some kind of new pattern that would rejuvenate his work and get him going again. He'd rewatch the videos again and again, analysing every sentence out of the patients' mouths, judging himself on his sometimes untimely responses, and undeterred by the horrific images flashing on the screen, he'd put it, rewinding, beside his desk, where every night it would spew out screams and cold questions that would make anybody's hair stand on end.

His bookshelves were stocked with his research, folder after folder of detailed descriptions entailing the patterns at which his subjects writhed in torture at his treatments, their circadian rhythms messed up by the intense shock therapy they were subjected to at a daily basis, and their slow, slow descent to insanity, in which process their brains tried pathetically to adjust to this extreme environment, but failed nonetheless. And yet, the discoveries made in the process were far, far more important than their sanity. After all, why would a lowly prisoner's sanity matter to the society out there that would benefit hugely from his discoveries? At most, it would relieve the prison of their duty to continue wasting resources on a damned person. The world would remember him, Herman Carter, as the person who made these amazing discoveries and saved them all from the confines of their own mind. And the insignificant lab rats, rotting in the ground, would NOT take the glory from him! He was the one who populated these bookshelves around him, he was the one who'd worked hard for nine years to get the equipment, and all they did was scream. And their screaming brought forth the treasure trove in front of him, which he'd used to conduct his research more efficiently here.

Herman sighed as he sat up straighter in his leather chair. He shouldn't have lost control of his emotions. He was a scientist! Emotion control was essential to guarantee usable results and stable data in an experiment, and Herman hated himself for struggling with that. Not even after so many years in the profession had Herman mastered this specific aspect of his work. A micro-expression could be the wrecking ball slamming into months of hard work and careful calibrations as the subject's subconscious took notice and changed the subject's responses, and hence, introducing unforeseen variables into the experiment. Imagine! So close to getting that crucial result of the experiment, in which he could discover the fragile conclusion of the human brain, and that could ruin all of the work!

Herman could not, and would not, allow that. He would not be the wild factor changing the experiment. He was the experimentator, not the experiment, and he would not allow himself to become the experiment either. He was the one deriving the results, not the one screaming. He WOULD NOT be the one screaming. He WOULD NOT. The one screaming would be the one across him, and he would be the one asking cold, hard questions, NOT THE OTHER WAY ROUND. He would not -

Herman sighed. There he went again. Why couldn't he just keep his own brain in control? He felt weak not being able to keep himself from running off with all these thoughts, from being the cold interrogator he wanted to be, from being the efficient experimentator he wanted to be, from the hero he wanted to be. The psychologist's words of "hero complex" didn't mean anything to him back then, and yet now, when he looked back upon his older days, he realized how arrogant and narcissistic he was, and how that had drastically affected the results, and how that had caused him to be trapped here, in his own little office, with his notes every day...

But here, he'd learned his place under the Entity, and he was ready to work for it, both to protect his own life and to escape that burning feeling which propagated when the Entity pierced you through and through with its talons when it was displeased with you. That made Herman feel like he was the subject, being thrown around like a rag doll, and although Herman was very sure the Entity was powerful enough to take that claim seriously, he still tried to stay on the good side of the Entity, and he was doing a good job so far. He supposed his cold stature and power walk put the nail in the coffin that he was loyal to the Entity, and he was. Any time the Entity pried open his brain for checking, he was always 100% loyal to the Entity, ready to do its bidding.

But what the Entity didn’t know, was that Herman had always had that little cog, tucked away from prying eyes, hidden in that dark little corner blocked by the huge, complex machine that was his brain, that could throw the whole machine out of whack and make it churn to a different rhythm. But for now, Herman had no clue of this miraculous little cog, and he was just another killer loyal to the Entity, killing and sacrificing for it, forever and ever, never escaping from this hellhole.

Herman felt his thoughts draw back to the research conducted here again; and although it was slow, whenever he made progress, it was significant progress. Like the crucial information of the dosage of electricity needed to relieve one's brain of its duties, which would be important for judging the dosage needed to achieve the maximum effect and at the same time keep the specimen usable for the next experiment. Or the manipulation of the electric field to make static electricity a significant playing factor in the experiment, for a self-propelling of the chain reaction in which objects carrying the electric field could exchange charges themselves, and gain interesting effects. Maybe even the hooks could gain such an effect, as seen by the last experiment he did on the subject. He'd observed one of the subjects seemingly trying to rescue the other off the hook, and then screaming in the process, since the static electricity had spread across the hook and onto one of the subjects. A simple blast of electricity, however, was enough to make the rescuing go awry, and he'd chased the other subject away from the sacrifice. Perhaps a better controlled experiment could be arranged (not in the subjects' knowledge, of course) next time, to better investigate the effects of his electricity field.

That was something Herman hated. Not having knowledge of himself made him feel like he wasn't worthy to investigate the wonders of the brain, since he didn't even have the time to investigate his own body and his biological processes. Although the electric field was an artificial construct by the all-powerful Entity gifted to him, Herman didn't know anything about it except for its physical properties, and he was sure he could gain so much more knowledge if he'd just found a way to investigate it thoroughly. But no matter how hard he wracked his weak brain, and how thoroughly he'd searched his notes, and how diligently he'd conducted his experiments, nothing came out of it, and he was stuck with an incomplete knowledge of himself. And in those especially bad days where yet another experiment failed, and there was no precious coffee to rely on, Herman would be especially hard on the subjects, cracking them down more than ever, until their screams ripped out of their throats unknowingly and they fell to the ground, and only then would Herman's rage be satisfied a little, and he would electrocute their brains in an attempt to let off some steam in his head. Their black, charred faces always brought an indescribable beauty to Herman's mind, and he would admire his handiwork before setting off to hunt again.

However, those days were rare, and most days Herman knew better than to risk angering the god above him by not bringing those precious sacrifices to it. The experimenting was already quite a privilege, and Herman did not want to lose that all because of some random outburst of emotion from himself that was insignificant in the face of research. He had to rein in his emotions and stay calm in the face of crisis, so he could finish the thing he had been working on for so long. And it was here that Herman finally realized the huge effect of coffee in his pre-killer life, and missed it's calming and stimulating qualities all at once. He would have to try finding a way to synthesize coffee in this place; though he was not a specialist in chemistry at all, the Blight could be of some help. The Blight probably needed coffee as much as he did.

  
  
  


Feng was screwed. Not normal screwed, mind you, which in the context of this place was very, very screwed already, but "oh-my-fucking-god-how-did-i-get-here" level of screwed, here, in a place that would already be "oh-my-fucking-god-how-did-i-get-here" level of screwed. She didn't know what she was thinking, she didn't know why she followed that line of thought, and she didn't know how she would get out of this situation either, but she was scavenging. Now, normally this would be totally fine, with even the innocent Claudette going out for plants and a herb or two to make coffee or medicine sometimes (the coffee was surprisingly okay...?), but Feng was scavenging somewhere else. Where even the dark forest seems safe, where danger lurks around in your brain and pumps through your heart…

Feng was in the Doctor’s realm.

Feng gripped her little duffel bag tightly as she surveyed the scene. Obviously she should be running as fast as she could from here, but this was the Doctor's realm. Its purpose probably wasn't to "treat" people, as could be seen from the sounds being looped from the four TVs on the ceiling, but as the screams were being hammered into Feng's head, she realized there might be some precious medicine, right here, in the hospital. Obviously there wouldn't be any really extensive medical equipment here, and she couldn't take that stuff back anyway, but morphine or clean bandaging was a very real possibility. And as Feng considered the possibilities, she realized one more thing: she was literally standing in the most vulnerable and visible position in the whole map, right smack dab in the entrance to the huge cage-like floor in front of her.

Darting into a nearby room, Feng stopped to check her surroundings. No heartbeat; good. No hallucinations; good. No screaming; good -

And then Feng felt the edges of her vision grow white-hot, seemingly tendrils curl into her eyes; they felt warm at first, then slowly started to get hot, and hotter, and hotter, and hotter, and they showed no sign of stopping. Her arms and legs seemed like they were on fire, jerking and twirling at awkward angles like they weren't even hers anymore, and her body twisted upon itself. Feng was panicking; her brain didn't have the capacity to properly comprehend what was going on, and in between the "fight-or-flight response" her brain could choose neither. Feng felt her brain collapse in on itself, her eyes burning at an impossibly high temperature by now, and her legs twirling in on themselves of their own accord. Her whole body felt compressed through a hydraulic spring, and the pressure was so much even the basic survival instincts imprinted on her brain since she got here were thrown away, and Feng felt a scream tear out of her own throat, and another, and another, and another, and another, and then all was black and she knew no more.

When Feng jerked awake, she was on the ground, body shaking uncontrollably, with her duffel bag tossed to her side. Groaning, and still quite blurry from the recent stress, she'd barely managed to pull herself up from the ground when she heard the infamous heartbeat, propagating and expanding inside her own body, exploding like a million little fireworks, and filling up her whole being with fear. Instincts kicked in, and her sluggish body suddenly became usable again and Feng found herself running towards the exit of this horrifying place. It was only when she reached the door, though, that Feng realized the door was locked, and that the Doctor had explicitly done this to prevent her escape. The chains tethering the handles together were thick and tight, and Feng knew she had no hope of ever breaking them, with no tools but a small, soft duffel bag by her side.

Feng looked around, desperate, for something to work with, whilst at the same time berating herself for even making the mistake of coming here at all. ‘ 我的天啊！’She thought, ‘ 我怎麼會笨到跑來這個鬼地方！怎麼辦！’ (Oh my god! How stupid am I to even have thought about stepping into this place at all?) She checked her immediate surroundings. Metal cart...? No, would be too insignificant against this huge metal door, and she wouldn't have the force to even think of making a dent in the door anyway. She had to concentrate on the chains. She looked around again, alert of the impending footsteps just round the corner now, and the ever increasing heartbeat that was threatening to rip her heart out alive. Use the medical saw!... No, she was too short, and for once, Feng cursed herself for not listening to Mom and Dad and not eating enough veggies to keep her "healthy" and "tall". Metal pipe? Too malleable, and way too weak against the chains. Wooden boards from the beds nearby? Sure, they might stop the Doctor for a bit of time, but definitely not winning the fight against the chains. Maybe she could hit somewhere other than the door, find a weak spot in the wall! And yet as soon the idea was formed, it was dissipated as Feng reconsidered the thick concrete wall surrounding the entire perimeter of the institute.

And then, Feng's competitive spirit made her turn from "flight" to "fight" as she realized all her chances of escaping were crushed by the chain in front of her. She could see the Doctor down the corridor now, doing his stupid power walk, and he seemed to know she was cornered; he looked predatory, really, and for once in her life, Feng was afraid the man in front of her was about to rape her or do something other unforgivable thing. Like an animal trapped in a corner, Feng saw a wooden stick appearing in thin air beside her, and Feng being Feng, exposed to VR games for quite a long time before, and under the extreme pressure of the situation, Feng grabbed the wooden stick without even stopping to consider the Doctor's hallucinations, thinking it was a real weapon she could use against this monster like in some kind of messed up video game where pain was very real and you died over and over again.

There was a somehow incredibly wholesome moment where Feng's hand was clutching at air as the Doctor's hallucination disappeared, Feng's body positioned in a fighting stance, and the Doctor stopping to gape slightly and letting out a reluctant snicker while Feng mentally facepalmed at her stupidity.

But the chains didn’t snap, Feng was still cornered with nowhere to run, and the Doctor was closing in, very, very quickly. She darted in between beds and chairs, through the windows and across half the asylum, but she was running into a corner and the stairs towards the second floor that would enable her to loop him for a bit were out of her reach. Feng looked around more to consider any more routes, but they were all cut off by the strategically positioned barriers Feng hadn't even noticed before; they looked like walls, but with spider legs and grotesque faces protruding and waving around. And Feng finally made the connection; the Entity was helping the Doctor catch her, and if she came anywhere even remotely close to those walls, she would probably instantly be pierced like when she didn't get out of a trial in time, and die a slow and painful death. She wasn't even sure what the Entity could do outside of trials, and nobody at the campfire knew or seemed really eager to know either.

And between the Entity and the Doctor, Feng chose the logical choice.

And so Feng ran and ran, knowing she was pretty much dead already, and yet still not willing to give up. The pallets, which would be a big help for her survival, were nowhere to be found, and even if Feng did manage to get out of her terrible position, the doors were still held tight by that pesky chain, and the Doctor wasn't giving her any room to even consider using any remotely slow method to try and break those, seemingly taking a route that was mathematically guaranteed to keep her where he wanted her to be, or at least it seemed so to Feng, whose several attempts to break out of the trap failed. Feng would try to take unconventional courses to trick the Doctor, bobbing and weaving through the many confusing doorways that had flashing EXIT signs above them, even running straight into the Doctor once, but the Doctor always managed to cut her off, with the help of her screams and his goddamn hallucinations, and soon Feng found herself crouching behind a bed, with the Doctor on the other side, and his predatory laugh hammering at her brain.

Feng waited for her eventual fate, and yet for an amazingly peaceful moment, all was silent except for the beeping heart rate monitor beside her. She could still hear the Doctor's heavy breathing, and yet he wasn't coming over, and he wasn't laughing as though he was about to charge up a blast either. Feng peeked over the bed out of curiosity, and found the Doctor simply standing there, stock still, motionless, as though all the life had been sapped out of him. Barely believing her luck, and thinking it was a ruse, Feng slowly stood up, quietly, tore down the heart rate monitor from the wall, and smacked it into the Doctor's head.

There was a satisfying crunch as the heart rate monitor smashed into the ground, and Feng looked at the cracks fanning out from the place where she had slammed the heart rate monitor down, spreading out like a beautiful snowflake, and yet spelling out her almost certain death. The realization that she had literally just attacked a hallucination, and not the real Doctor, came way too late as a dark chuckle came from behind her that made her hairs stand on end. Feng didn't even have enough time to turn around before a hand grabbed her from behind her back, another one settled on top of her head, and a gravelly voice said, "Go to sleep. It will end soon."

And then a huge sound that almost blew out her eardrums hit Feng, and her brain almost exploded again, but this time it was way worse. Rainbow colors fanned out in front of her like a spiral as white and black sparks exploded at the edges of her vision. Her brain was overloading as random words poured into her head and Feng screamed, once, twice, thrice, from all the stimulation and overloading, and her brain, quite literally, crashed from all the pressure and heat and overload the powerful blast of electricity right behind her head had given her.

Feng passed out for the second time in an hour.


End file.
